…but that’s not the point of my story.

I was waiting at 645am for my bus to Chivay on Thursday. At 730am the lady who owned the hostel was on the phone trying to figure where the hell my bus was. I thought, fuck, they forgot and a travel day lost is priceless. At 745am door bell rings for alas my bus. Turns out I am the only passenger. They give me a bottle of water, snacks and I enjoy a quiet private tour on the road to Chivay with my iPod. I catch a glimpse of a condor soaring solo in the sky. You can spot them by their white collar and 3m wing span that never flaps. I arrive in Chivay 6 hours later unsure of my next move. I ask the bus station what time is a bus to Cabanaconde, he said it’s leaving right now.   I wanted to see the observatory in Chivay but had already seen Saturn, Venus and star clusters in Cusco so I ran to catch the bus before it left; which meant no time for the bathroom or ATM.   I headed to the back of the bumpy bus when two guys hollar at me. They seemed happy to see me and asked where I was headed. I thought…wheeeere do I know these guys from???   I tell them I was headed to hike Colca Canyon from Cabanaconde but unsure how or when.   An hour later after recounting the many people I’ve met it dawned on me.   They are the Germans Sharaya and I met in the jungle 3 weeks ago. Phew, happy to know people along the way.
We arrive and a fela offers us info on Pachamama Hostel. I say that’s where I’m headed. Perfect. The Germans go to find a camp site and I walk with 3 Swedish ladies who too plan to hike Colca. We get our rooms and there meet 2 dudes from Tahoe, they are young, 19 and 20. I room with the dudes who immediately decide to join me in hiking the following morning. After time the Swedes decide to join us on our route down the Colca as well. Awesome I found a team of new friends to hike down, up, reluctantly back down and then a stiff hike back up the deepest canyons in the world.
I split to have a late lunch and roam around the small puebla to take a gander.   This town is untouched by many tourists and the locals are warm hearted to those who venture this far. I run into my team new friends at a view point at the side of the cliff where deep deep down below we see our final bottom summit; which we will arrive to on our second night. It is a tiny oasis of palm trees and pools admist a backdrop of arrid mountains. I watch the sunset with the Tahoes, Swedes, Germans and their camp dog they called Carlos.
This evening is the beginning of a fiesta celebrating some god or holy day.   You can begin to hear the band in the main plaza. I drop my stuff off in my room and that’s when I panick. I can’t find my phone. Ironically, when I got off the bus I thought I’d lost it but had left it in my coat pocket. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Damn it. I tell my friends at dinner I have to go find it or at least give it a good look.   Young Tahoe decides to join me even after I told him no. We go on the hunt and retrace my steps after I had lunch. We stop at a tienda where I had a long chat with Senora Alejandrina about the music she was playing. She said she found no phone.   Tahoe and I walk in the dark. Soon behind Alejandrinas’ children, who I believe are around my age run to us to help look. I’m blown away and urge them no need and that I feel bad if they were to come along. They tell me stop worrying that they were here to help.   Alas no phone, Tahoe leaves to the fiesta and the Cruz family tells me to come to their tienda to look at the photos I had taken that day to see if they can spot any “mal personas de la puebla”.   Mind you these folks speak no English but I am able to communicate exactly what my steps were that day. At this point I’m over my phone and I’m tired and hungry. However the father then takes me to the local radio station where they immediately announce if anyone finds a cell to please return it to the Cruz family, since I would be on my journey for the next few days. This, I believe is why I was supposed to lose my phone, to meet genuinely sweet caring folks whose heart I have rarely come across in my life. Not to mention got my name on the local radio station.
Phew, I manage to grab the last meal at the hostel before it closed. Tahoe 1 comes down from his room to keep me company as I eat and to make sure I was doin all right. He tells me of the fiesta and sorry he split. I say no worries as I too wanted to hear the music and celebrate with the town.
530am we wake to the sou d of fireworks, we eat, we walk past my new family’s tienda as they wave us good bye.   Today will be a hot, sweaty hike all the way down. Us ladies clench our butts to help take the pressure off our knees.   We beat the time we were told it would take by an hour and a half and arrive in Llauar, a tiny family owned hacienda in the middle of no where with hot springs along the river bed. This special oasis had about 5 other guests and we are surrounded by tranquility. No WiFi, no electricity, no phones (ha) and no computers.   We quickly strip our sweat drenched clothes put on our bathing suits and soak our soar feet.   I see a poster for a ride backup in a 4x4 for 25 soles. I think what a deal I’ll stay here relax and take a ride back up.   I tell my new friends and all are a bit dissappointed and young Tahoe 1 tells me we are team. I say we are not in a relationship and I’ll do what I want, said with a smile. “Luckily” I misread the poster which actually said 250 soles. Super bummed. I accept that I must continue this hike. I shower, I nap to the sound of the rushing river below then we gather for dinner. We agree to head out again at 6am and all pass out before 9pm.
I wake around 430am to go pee and Tahoe 1 jumps from bed and asks me what time is it. I say I’m going to pee I don’t know. Somethin I ate or touched the day before had upset my tummy a bit. I come back mumbling I don’t wanna hike anymore and Tahoe 2 says, “that’s the spirit”.   I sleep for a bit more as these beds were quite cozy sitting on top of bamboo sticks.   We have breakfast, one of the Swedes isn’t feelin so good either. We put on our backpacks and started to go up. I hate up.   2 1/2 hours later we hit the top of the mountain to have a small rest and again we see our next tiny oasis allll the wayyy at the bottom. I watch a big black ant crawl into my pack and think shit he is in there for good.   We finish our snack break and head out as a Nissan comes zooming past us. I hear in a German accent, “We see you at the bottom!!!”.   Damn Germans I so wanted to hop in that truck, ugh. At this point my shoulders, hands, lips and nose are burnt. Not to mention my most awesome sock and backpack tanlines.   Four of us decided to take a steep shortcut down at my urging and the other two took the long way. The shortcut was more fun for me as we switchbacked through yucca plants and pretty much skated down loose rocks. Yet, it was another hot two hours before we reached the waterfalls of Sangalle. Papa Cruz told me to ask for Pablo Junco who owned one of the best hostels. There were 3 and it was the last one where we found Pablo.   At this point Im over hiking and decide to shell out 70 soles for a mule ride back up in the morning. As we were warned by all this last stretch is near miserable. We eat lunch, drink mango juice, run into the Germans who ended up having to hike down because there were no roads all the way down (ha).   I wash my clothes with a bar of soap so they can dry before night and pass the hell out on the grass. I wake and go reorganize my pack and to try and find that damn ant that crawled in.   I shake and shake but no ant, however my phone is what fell out. Yes, of course I looked in my pack a thousand times.   The little thing was stuck to the plastic of my camel pack. I’m in disbelief and also feel like an idiot.   I finally lay on my bed when Linda my fav Swede comes in and I bashfully tell her I found my phone. She’s excitied for me and says she actually just found money she thought she lost and Lena also found some cookies she had lost as well :). Linda then tells me not to take the mule. That I can finish the hike and that she too would go at a slow pace since she has never in her life gone on such a journey. I appreciate her commrodery and agree that I will continue. We all have dinner together, play cards, play a game of “I never” which is when we quickly learn secrets bout each other then laugh at how all we have pretty much eaten is a shit ton of rice, potatoes, bread and jam. Mind you everything is taken in and out by mule or person.   Us ladies are in our room when German 1 burst in and says he has an incredible story.   Carlos, their camp dog from Cabanaconde has miraculously found his way to the bottom of the mountain to be with both boys. Amazing. He then says that he must go to Carlos immediately. We all say good night at doze off at around 830pm.
We wake at 6am I go out and stretch as my legs are super tight and I listen to the last bit of power my iPod has. I see the mules head out with two hikers and I silently wave goodbye to my easy way out. Linda sits beside me and tells me it will go by fast.   Double mind you my team is at the beginning of there trip and I am at the end. Tahoe 1 tells me to quit being lazy and I shoot him an evil eye to which he then realizes my body is just tired then peps me up for the hike. I would like to blame the air quality of Los Angeles for never being able to breathe fully at high altitudes. We say byebye to the Germans and at
8am we begin. It indeed is hot and a stiff straight up with over 100 switchbacks with 2.5 liters of water in my pack. It’s heavy. We all take moments of gratitude for each other’s company and I especially appreciate Linda’s. She and I stayed in the back and nearly 3 1/2 hours we summited back into Cabanaconde. Glory. And it was Linda and I who had the energy to run back into town.   Mission reluctantly accomplished.
Now to shower, eat, buy flowers for my Cabanaconde family and catch the 2pm bus to Arequipa.   Lena starts to feel dehydrated and the rest of us grab beers to celebrate. This makes my to do list a bit difficult as I am pooped and now tipsy. I pay 5 soles for a shower tell the group I’ll meet for lunch after I try and find flowers in this tiny puebla.   All of a sudden a man in a gigantic sombrero says, “Bustillos!” Ah, it is Papa Cruz. I tell him I have to run errands and I will meet him at the tienda in 30 minutes.   He tells me Alejandrina will be on my same bus. I eat, drop off flowers and in my best drunk Spanish explain my gratitude for the family, snap a pic, run back to grab my uber heavy pack, hug the Swedes goodbye (a bit teary eyed) then run to the bus where both Tahoes are waiting as they too are headed to Arequipa.
Did I mention I’m tired? Can’t sleep on the bus so I sit there starring at the locals coming on and off the bus for 5 1/2 hours as the sun sets.
This begins my 24hrs in Arequipa. We arrive hungry and exhausted. I give Alejandrina a rose quartz (Lulu gave it to me as a gift of good luck for my trip) and again said byebye and thank you for everything. I bought my ticket at the Termino de Bus for the next evening to Ica and I end up joining the Tahoes at the hostel they last stayed in in Arequipa. I’m running on zero at this point and am a bit grateful Tahoes are splitting in the am. They are 19 and 20. Sweet dudes but super young and I need some me time.   I drop my filthy laundry off and enter the world of WiFi again and receive a late email from a rafting company up North. Boo. It’s low season and the rapids are small. I could have stayed in Cabanaconde one more night with the Swedes. Bummer.
I wake, jump off the top bunk and quickly make plans to take a walking tour of the “white city” of Arequipa then scheduled a rafting trip at 2pm. Some dude tells me not to waste my time rafting since it’s low season and he has experience rafting blah blah blah… I tell him I am aware of what I am doing and give him a cold shoulder. This glorious mega city is built from white volcanic rock. And anywhere you stand you can see the two volcanoes of El Misti (6km away and still active) and Chichani (dormant). This makes for a dream I had last night involving an errupting volcano. I say tata to the Tahoes and explore the town.   I unfortunately already bought my ticket out for that night so don’t have time to see the Monestary or the museums.   I finish round 12:30 eat some street food then head to the hostel to prep for rafting and ready all my luggage so I can quickly run to the bus station after rafting. The dude from before finds me and apologizes for his comment earlier, ha.
So, now I am on the mini bus and passing out. I figure the cold water will revive me.   We suit up I chat with a Spaniard in my raft who says she is nervous and I tell her I expect “agua tranquilo” and nothing over a class 4 rapid however this water moves fast. we load 4 rafts in the Rio Chili and after 45min we complete our first class 4 we perch to the side to wait for the others. I see an extra paddle in the river and grab it. Then I see a person and we pull him in our raft then I see two more paddles and four more people in the river headed our way!!! Holy holy their raft flipped alongside a huge boulder!!! We pull all 5 safetly and quickly into our raft and now were a total of
11 in a raft that fits 7!!! These epic quick moments of rescue are crucial. The others are all frightened and Sergio our guia tells us to paddle, “adelante con fuerza por que estamos muy pesado!!!”.   Adelante!!! Fuerte!!! Fuerte!!! Damn, was quite some excitiment in what I thought would be a lazy river run!   As the river calmed the others joined their guia who seemed quite embarrassed. Although I don’t believe it was his fault because I saw how they were paddling before.   Here my guia Sergio says something about a picture on top of rocks (note no English is being spoken). I gleefully say yes and hop out for the photo on top of the ledge above. Then I realize I was missing something in my translation, my new word of the day in Spanish, “salto” which means, “jump”.   I’m first in line and there is no way out. I simply utter, “fuck, shit, fuck” and jump into cold water 30 feet below. I Hate. Jumping. Into. Cold. Water. We finish our river run numb and in commrodery. Yet another river I have drafted and yet have never fallen out.
Im dropped off at the hostel and run into town to see the Cathedral at night, buy a sombrero de Cabanaconde, a CD with tradicional baladas and grab some snacks for my night bus. I end up getting lost as the streets seemed different at dark. Traffic and pedistrians were doubled because of yet another dang protest/fiesta. I shove an empanada down and frantickly ask for directions. I arrive to the hostel having missed my taxi to the Termino de Bus. I throw my clean laundry in my pack, switch shoes and decide to run to find a cab in the streets since the hostel was having trouble getting another because of the chaos in the city.   I find one, end up getting dropped off on time and end up waiting 45 minutes. We call this Peruvian Time. I realize I purchased a ticket on a quite nice but local bus. I am the only tourist and no English subtitles on the movie. I figure this is for the best because if hijackers go to a bus at night this one isn’t gonna be it, since there were no tourists.   I eat my bus dinner and pass out.
I wake at 6am and begin watching a Chinese film in Spanish. Ica, is known to be less than safe. In fact the Tahoes told me when they arrived they saw a robbery. So I took my cards and money out of my main wallet and stashed it in my jean pocket. I figure if they take my wallet they get 100 soles. I get off the bus and am I immediately approached by a cab driver who willingly grabs my heavy pack. I ask another lady if I should trust and she said the cab company was legit. He then asks me if I trust and I say no. Duh. I feel it out for a second and go. All is good. I tell him to take me to Huacachina to a hostel named “… something Sol” as this is what I had been told by fellow travelers.   Still a bit on alert he walks my pack to my room. I see some girls with there door open and one of them turns to me and says, “Hiiiii!!!!”. Ha, two Holland girls I met on the boat to the islands near Puno a week ago. I feel at ease again. We grab breakfast they tell me of their adventure getting a wallet stolen and getting a debit card stuck in the atm, I now know which atm not to use.   Back at the hostel I’m swinging in the hammock trying to fix my sock tanline when I see the French couple from my raft. They come to me to tell me they had money stolen from there bags while rafting. Bummer.   I say bye bye to the Holland girls as they head North and I sit here and write this story.
It’s afternoon now and I think I’ll take a nap before my trip in a buggy down the sand dunes at sunset.

PSssss. This is a bit of what my entire trip has been like and this is only the story of 6 days.

Love.

processing.

I lost my phone...

My,